


Crawl

by The_Torturer_Writes



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: F/M, Flip is a sexy MF, Good old fashioned dominance, Quick Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Torturer_Writes/pseuds/The_Torturer_Writes
Summary: From this prompt: Torture Tuesday!!! Can you please write something with Flip or Clyde being dominant and possessive of you? Maybe with some mild exhibitionism thrown in? Thank you!!!
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51
Collections: Torturer Tuesdays





	Crawl

You walked into the room only to jerk to a stop two steps in at the sight of his lone index finger, held aloft to catch your eye and shook from side to side to halt your advance. His sensuous mouth worked, tongue wiping the flesh to catch the beer drop, but he didn’t speak.

“Crawl.” He mouthed it, and your guts clenched.

You looked around the casual party, focused on the smooth jazz record playing in the corner, and marveled at the people you had met since you started dating Flip. Turns out, cops are fucking crazy, kinky bastards, and they like to watch each other be crazy, kinky bastards.

And here you were, right in the middle of it all with the sexiest motherfucker you’d ever met in your life.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you assessed how many of Flip’s guests immersed themselves in other things and how many were looking right at you. Only a few sets of eyes turned your way, but it didn’t make you feel any less embarrassed. 

If you did it, he would fuck you into next week, and that was reason enough.

Redirecting your eyes to his, you sunk slowly down to your knees; the move practiced and fluid from your week in Flip’s world. His eyes flashed, the look you knew to be appreciative hunger. When you leaned forward to plant your palms on the shag carpet, he adjusted himself, hardening at the sight of you.

A devilish smirk danced across your lips. Every time you were on your knees, he was instantly hard. Your mouth watered; your pussy flooded. You’d given him permission to fuck you whenever, wherever, however he wanted, but the control was always yours because he couldn’t not fuck you when you hit him with those things he liked so much.

Slowly, deliberately, you inched across the floor, shoulders dipping, hips swaying. You didn’t care who was watching you now because his gaze glued to you, and he was the only thing that mattered.

At his boots, you arched a brow at him and waited until he shifted, both feet spreading apart to give you room. Sliding your hands up his dark wash jeans, you wiggled forward until you were kneeling between his powerful thighs. You settled onto your heels and looked up at him, feigning innocence and batting your dark lashes.

“Open your mouth. Show me your tongue.”

You blushed, the demand shooting fireworks off in your pussy, but you complied. Sinking a bit into your knees, you arched your chest towards him, tipped your head back slightly, and opened your mouth. He expected you to flatten your tongue, but you curled it at him playfully, earning you a smirk and a low chuckle.

His warm, thick hand slid past your cheek to tangle into the hair at your nape, fingers tight and pulling your head back. You stared at him, breathless and flushing. Your nipples strained the silk shirt he’d picked out. Your thighs rubbed together to quell the quiver.

“If I told you,” he nudged your nose with his, “To take off all your clothes right now, would you do it?”

You licked pink lipstick from your lower lip and dug your nails into his jeans, grasping for something to cling to so you wouldn’t float away on the sexy tone of his voice. Public sex wasn’t an unfamiliar thing for you. Flip fucked you in the record room, bent over your desk at work, the bathroom at the restaurant you liked so much. But he’d never fucked you, shared or showed you, where anyone else could see.

Using what little leeway you had from his grip, you nodded, barely perceptible.

“Say it.” 

His fingers grazed your stiff nipple, the cold fabric catching and dragging with each pass. He loomed over you, so close you could smell his aftershave, the beer on his breath. You whimpered, greedily wanting to straighten up and kiss him until you couldn’t think anymore.

“Yes, Sir. I would.”

The growl was low in his throat, deep and possessive. It drove him crazy when you called him that, and you relished the immediate response. You leaned into his touch, craving the cup of that hot palm.

“Why?”

The question startled you so much your mouth hung open, jaw slack. You blinked repeatedly as you tried to muddle through the cotton in your brain and come up with a suitable answer.

_ Because you’ll fuck me until I can’t walk. Because you’ll say those things to me I think about for a week after. Because you are the most sinful, shameless man I’ve ever met, and it excites me. Because you’re a landslide, and I can’t not be washed away by you. _

“I….” 

Your hands slipped up to his chest, fingers splaying over his steel pectorals and finding comfort in the heartbeat beneath. Tears collected in the corners of your eyes, and your lips trembled, the weight of your thoughts settling into the hollow of your throat. You tried to look away, but he shook your head until your shiny eyes opened on him.

“I want to be good for you.” It was a turbulent whisper, a desperate declaration. “I want you to be proud of me.”

The depth of your feeling flashed across your face, and Flip rewarded it with the softest brush of a kiss. He licked at the very edge of your mouth for just a second before abruptly standing. You sniffled and steadied yourself, nearly knocked backwards by the sheer size of his body.

In seconds, he hoisted you into his steel arms and threw you over his shoulder. He carried you like this, ass and damp panties on display, through his house while he said various goodbyes. They could stay as long as they wanted, he told everyone, but his girl needed some private attention.

His girl.

He called you his girl. Timidly, you waved at everyone just before you disappeared up the steps to what you were certain would be a long, sticky, emotional night.


End file.
